


Yesterday’s Hero

by Ann7121



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 17:39:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18721816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann7121/pseuds/Ann7121
Summary: What if Jarvik wasn’t dead?





	Yesterday’s Hero

When they discovered that the "Federation Thug", as Avon insisted on calling him, wasn't dead, it provoked much debate, mostly academic because it turned out that nobody had the stomach to follow Avon's advice and air-lock a wounded man. Cally was particularly eloquent on the subject. Eventually Avon gave up and returned to his studies with the Sopron, leaving her and Tarrant to administer the requisite medical treatment.

"Woman, where am I?" Jarvik's first words on regaining consciousness put Cally's teeth a little on edge, but she managed to answer him reassuringly.

"You're on the Liberator. Quite safe. And your injuries have been attended to. Would you like something to drink?" 

Jarvik moved uncomfortably, grunting with suppressed pain as he attempted to raise himself up on his uninjured arm. "Thank you. My mouth is dry." 

"Here." Cally presented a glass of vitamin solution, supporting him as he sucked it greedily through a straw.

"That's better. " He sank back, eyes closing. 

"How’s he doing?" Tarrant entered the sick bay, noisily clattering into the instrument table as he did so and earning a frown from Cally, but Jarvik had surrendered once more to sleep and didn't stir.

"Nearly back to his old self...unfortunately”. Although she spoke in a whisper there was a discernible snap in her voice. Taken aback, Tarrant marshalled his 'anxious, wounded, little boy pout’. 

"Relax, Tarrant “ she said, noticing it and relenting slightly. “Your friend will be up and about by the end of the week. I’ll look after him I promise.”

She glanced down at her sleeping patient with an inward sigh. Another week tending the sick when she could be out there, fighting the Federation. But she had to admit that, despite his shortcomings, Jarvik was rather exciting to look at! Perhaps nursing him wouldn’t be all bad.

\---  
" We get rid of him. What else would you suggest? I’m giving you the courtesy of assuming you’re not proposing he joins the crew. You vetoed my suggestion that we kill him. Our only remaining option is to abandon him on the next planet we come to.” Avon, at his most contemptuously frustrated, prowled around the flight deck as he harangued the crew, angling his fingers in a mannered way like a fastidious cat stretching its claws.

“He has many skills and a lot of experience. He could be useful to us, Avon.”

“Oh, you are suggesting he joins the crew? I hadn’t realised you were that stupid. What’s your plan? We give him the run of Liberator so that he can apprise Servalan of all the security and override codes for Zen and Orac when he catches up with her? “

“No of course not. I mean... He wouldn’t. He’s a great chap, Avon. You’d like him if you got to know him better. And Dayna likes him I know...”

“Ah, I wondered when you were planning to let loose him on our womenfolk.”

" Let him loose on your womenfolk? We're not your Harem.” Dayna bristled predictably and a slight smile curved Avon's lips.

"Jarvik's no traitor," Tarrant countered, annoyed that a defensive note had entered what he had intended to be a firm statement of fact. "He knows he owes his life to us and he's grateful. Honour is everything to a man like him." 

This touch of hero worship curled Avon's grin into a positive snarl. 

"Save me from men who claim to be honourable," he spat back. "They bend with any wind that blows. Hardly a stable foundation for a relationship. I'd as soon trust his mistress. Servalan hasn't any honour, or if she has..."

"We are yet to find it," Vila chimed in.

"Precisely." Avon nodded approvingly. "We can trust that Servalan intends us harm, and we also know that Jarvik is her henchman. Even you should be able to work out the implications, Tarrant."

Cally, Vila and Dayna shared uneasy glances. 

"Well, it’s thanks to him I’m still alive, so ..." Dayna had begun when Jarvik's strident tones rang out across the flight deck.

"Ah, this is where you are all hiding. What a marvellous ship this is, Avon. Tarrant, I'm ready for a flying lesson if you're up for it!"

The atmosphere dropped at least ten degrees as Avon swung towards Tarrant, fury gusting from his slighter frame. Tarrant managed to stand his ground and meet icy eyes.

"He's a skilled pilot, Avon. As I said, he could be useful..." Tarrant's voice trailed into silence as Avon made a move with what looked like killing-intent towards him but fortunately Jarvik intervened.

"This is such a wonderful ship. I've been badgering Tarrant to let me have a go at piloting it once I’d got the go ahead from this lovely lady to leave sick bay.” He smiled down at Cally who blushed a rosy red. Look," he went on ingenuously, unabashed by Avon's venomous glare," I appreciate you have no reason to trust me, but you've saved my life between you, particularly this amazing angel. Believe it or not, Avon, that puts me in your debt,” he continued, “ And I'm a man who pays his debts." 

"Can you give me proof of that? A single reason why I should believe you?" 

"I can give you my word."

"Your word? Of course that will make all the difference." Avon’s face settled into an expression that managed to combine extreme scepticism with a dark, private humour. 

“Avon, Ven is telling us the truth. I can sense it...” Cally broke in, refusing to back down as he swung on her. She wasn’t sure why she was defending Jarvik, except it was flattering to have a man appreciate what she was doing instead of treating her like one of the ship’s components. 

“ You sense it? Of course you do. But then our guest seems to have made quite an impression on you, doesn’t he?” Avon waited until she dropped her gaze. “ Forgive me if I’m not prepared to trust our safety to your “feelings “ about him.” Dismissing Cally, he addressed Jarvik once again, hissing rather than speaking his words. “Listen to me, Jarvik. Your word is meaningless. You forfeited any right to my belief in it when you teamed up with Servalan."

Jarvik drew himself up, his posture offering a direct challenge. "You speak forcefully Avon,” he countered, “but do you speak for others or just for yourself? Do your crew mates agree with you? At least one of them knows I can be trusted. And I think she is not alone. A real man would not be so suspicious.”

The atmosphere on the flight deck plummeted from frigid to glacial and Cally instinctively moved so that her person was between the two men. Tarrant drew in a breath and Vila exchanged an uneasy glance with Dayna. Avon's smile sharpened.

"Divide and conquer, Jarvik? It's the sort of strategy I would expect from a primitive such as yourself. You need to understand that the only opinion here that matters, is mine. Frankly, if the whole crew went on bended knee and begged me to trust your word, I would disappoint them. Liberator was bequeathed to me and I decide whom I allow to have access to her systems. Yes, Tarrant," he whipped around to face Tarrant who had cleared his throat in protest, " this is my decision and mine alone."

Jarvik's heart laugh coincided with Tarrant's, "Now look here, Avon,” but, without warning, Zen interrupted:

+Information. Sensors detect a Flotilla of three Federation pursuit ships on an intercept course.+ 

"Damn," Avon moved swiftly towards the sensor array and everyone else scrambled to their usual positions,. "Zen," he continued, "how long before they..?

\+ Plasma bolts already launched and running.+ Zen's dispassionate observation coincided with an impact that glanced across Liberator's port nacelle.

"Zen, put up the force..." A second impact rocked the flight deck before Avon could finish his command. Caught off balance, he was thrown hard against a bulkhead and slumped to the floor. 

" Force wall, Zen. Now," yelled Tarrant, while Cally rushed to Avon. “Dayna, neutron blasters. Zen, evasion pattern 36.”

"He's out cold, Tarrant," Cally announced. 

"Get him to sick bay. Vila, take over the force wall. Jarvik, get over here, I need strategy advice."

\- - -  
Gaining consciousness is never pleasant. Avon was better than most at a quick recovery but he found himself struggling to shake off the confusion and nausea resulting from his concussion. Even worse, voices, one insistently loud, were piercing the fog in his brain like a spike. If he’d felt stronger he would have ordered them to shut up, but it was too much effort. Instead he lay still until full consciousness had seeped back and then cautiously opened his eyes. 

One of the voices, he discovered, belonged to Cally, who was sitting across the room next to the medical trolley holding a glass of green liquid. The owner of the irritating voice - Jarvik, his memory supplied - had one leg raised cockily on the strut of the trolley and was gazing raptly at her, eyes sparkling and a teasing grin plastered over his face. Cally appeared to be lapping up the attention, demurely swirling the contents of the glass as they talked. One phrase, uttered in an admiring tone, caught his attention: “Even Blake wouldn’t have thought of that, Ven.” He strained to listen further, hoping to piece together the sequence of events that had transpired during his enforced absence. 

What he finally grasped, alarmed him greatly. 

In order to thwart the attack, Jarvik had coached Tarrant through an audacious series of piloting moves. These had resulted in two of the pursuit ships colliding head-on and exploding. So far so good. However, in a fit of magnanimity, he had then allowed the third, badly damaged ship to escape, on the grounds that it would be ‘unsporting’ to destroy it. And the crew, loudly appreciative of Jarvik's undoubted expertise, hadn’t queried this idiotic decision (a decision that even ‘bleeding heart’ Blake would have vetoed), although allowing it to report back to headquarters would undoubtedly alert the Federation to Liberator’s presence in the sector. And, more worryingly they had unanimously decided to invite their hero to stay on as part of the crew without considering whether the sudden appearance of the pursuit ships had anything to do with his presence on board. 

Once again, Avon’s safety was being compromised by an engaging, over-grown, baby, with more aphorisms than sense; although he had to acknowledge that Blake's manipulation of his crew had fallen short of the caveman tactics Jarvik used to get his way. He decided he’d better get up and fast before some real damage occurred. 

But a shaky attempt to return to the flight deck ended abruptly as he witnessed Dayna, (a girl capable of throwing any man over her shoulder if she chose) respond with a dewy enthusiasm when Jarvik crushed her to his bosom, shouting , "Girl you're beautiful but leave the planning to men of experience.” Cally, sensible Cally, had evidently found this funny, because she was giggling like a school girl, and Tarrant and Vila seemed to be taking notes. 

This encounter increased Avon’s nausea and headache to such an extent that he was forced to return to his bed. He lay there suffering greatly, unable to credit that Jarvik’s antics hadn’t earned him a swift chop to the throat. Even Servalan had fallen for his charms. What was his secret? And was there no way to be rid of the idiot?

\- - -  
The Avon who eventually rose from his sick bed was a very different man to the one who had sunk despairingly onto it. He had come to the conclusion that there was little point in opposing the inevitable. It had never worked with Blake and he really wasn’t fit enough to enter into an argument with his pro-Jarvik crew. In Dayna’s case, she had a low boredom threshold and was clearly stimulated by Jarvik’s arrogance, perhaps because she was too young to resent his dominant ways, but more probably because his admiration for her beauty was sincere. Cally seemed to regard him as an exotic and entertaining pet whom she would enjoy house training. Tarrant hero-worshipped the man and Vila welcomed an uncritical drinking partner. Opposing Jarvik would cost him his crew’s loyalty and might well result in him being the one abandoned on a planet. He needed to bide his time and hope.

So he smiled prettily whenever he encountered Jarvik (and only he knew how hard he was gritting his teeth), thanking him publicly for saving the ship. He agreed with Tarrant that he’d been wrong and that Jarvik had proved a valuable addition to the crew. He stomached with a benign approval, Dayna’s heavy- handed flirting with the oaf and Carly’s amused fascination. He even participated in one of Vila and Jarvik’s beer and song evenings and regretted it the next morning. But as much as was practical, he kept to his room, experimenting on the Sopron with Orac’s help, hoping that the chance to get rid of the irritant without alienating the others would present itself.

Only Vila was suspicious of this volte face. He knew that there was nothing in Avon’s acerbic personality that would warm to such a man, especially one that was a threat to his leadership . The forbearance he was showing had to spring from an ulterior motive.

"What are you up to? " he asked Avon after seeing him accept a hearty slap on the back from Jarvik with no more reaction than a wince and a forced grin. 

" I don't know what you mean," Avon responded blandly, his face creasing into a smile which, though suspicious in itself, gave nothing away. " Why would I be 'up to' anything?  
\- - -  
It seemed an age to Avon before a suitable opportunity presented itself.

Several near misses with Federation patrol ships had hardened his conviction that Jarvik was either actively or unwittingly, revealing their location to the Federation, but as Orac was unable to confirm this, he judged it unwise to voice his fears to the others. These frequent cat and mouse dramas were however, causing wear and tear to the Liberator’s weapons’ system. They were running out of focusing crystals, and this was a problem which they did need to address.

“Dayna” Avon entered the flight deck just in time to witness Jarvik playfully toss her onto a couch as Vila clapped and whooped, waving his glass with its curly straw in time to the music blasting from Orac’s casing. Manfully, he refrained from sarcasm, or outright violence. “Dayna,” he repeated evenly, making his way to the computer and removing the key from its box. He must have imagined that Orac’s dying whine was tinged with gratitude.

“Spoilsport,” Vila slurred. 

“Avon, my bro..,” Jarvik cried. “Good to see you. Fancy an arm wrestle?”

“An enticing proposition, but unfortunately there are matters that require our attention. Dayna would you call the others while I consult Orac?”

“Oh, live a little Avon...” Jarvik took a hefty swing of the blue liquid that Vila passed him, while Dayna straightened her dress. “ What is more invigorating than a tumble with a beautiful woman or a physical contest between two men in their prime?”

“What indeed? Unless the safety of the crew is at stake ....”

“ Hear...hear. Nothing more invig...invig...nice... than a tumble between two physical men in their... Hang on...did you say safety?” Vila demanded, sobering up with remarkable speed.

“I did Vila...”

“Explain please, Avon, ” Dayna interjected.

“Gladly. Our several run-ins with the Federation, although ending in our complete victory thanks to Jarvik’s remarkable skills, have never the less been hard on our weapons’ system. To be precise, stress fractures have occurred in the focussing crystals. I have replaced them as needed but we are down to our last one. Without them we cannot defend ourselves and we will need to source a supply as soon as possible. So if I might borrow Orac....”

\- - -

The news brought a welcome seriousness to crew behaviour, well, welcome to Avon. Even Jarvik restrained his hearty manner and kept quiet while Avon interrogated Orac. Of course that might have been because the effects of all the ‘Vila specials’ he’d imbibed had finally caught up with him. As for Orac, its demeanour was subdued, almost humble, and unusually, it seemed eager to assist, so they had soon established that Corserous in the Alberan sector was the nearest source of the crystals. 

+You will need to proceed with caution. + Orac advised. + The inhabitants of Corserous are primitive. They respect strength which they regard as a special gift from their gods. The crystal vein I have located, occurs in an area that they regard as sacred. They will not take kindly to off-worlders clambering about its cliffs. Some sort of diversion may prove desirable. I believe the offer of some trinkets from the treasure room may suffice.+

It was then that Avon saw his opportunity.

After further discussion, it was agreed that Jarvik and Cally would approach the natives and keep them occupied while Avon, Dayna and Orac searched for the crystals. Tarrant would stay on board to monitor the Liberator sensors. That left Vila to perform the teleport honours. Not an ideal arrangement, but he promised solemnly and repeatedly to stay awake. 

Before they left, Avon presented Jarvik with a bundle containing an assortment of shiny jewellery to offer as gifts. Jarvik seemed rather taken by a couple of the items- identical pendants comprising unusual black stones set in gold frames and hung from chunky, gold chains. By the time he and Cally had teleported he was wearing one. It bounced invitingly against his well- muscled and exposed chest. 

\- - -  
Back on board Liberator, a stressed Cally tried to explain what had happened on the planet. 

“ It was going so well. Jarvik was magnificent. A bronzed God. I’ve never known a man look so strong and powerful. He made the natives seem like brutish beasts.” 

Dayna signed audibly and Cally rubbed her shoulder consolingly.

“ Of course they all ran towards us when we appeared... the natives,” she went on. “waving their spears and machetes. I thought we’d be killed for sure and I was just about to call Vila for teleport when they suddenly stopped and backed away. They appeared terrified of Jarvik. Even the Chief was alarmed despite the fact he was huge...bigger than Gan, Avon... but when Ven held up his arms to show they were empty and shouted,“ I come in peace,” he lowered his spear. 

Then Ven showed them that I was carrying gifts. Well, they liked that. The Chief bowed low to us. He spoke in standard with a funny accent but we could understand him. He said “We welcome the Special Man and his woman who bears us gifts. You would honour us if you and your woman would break bread with us.” I’m not sure why I didn’t object to being called ‘his woman’ but honestly, Ven was so lovely that it just seemed appropriate. All of us women were gazing at him like he was our last meal.”

She took a sip of her herbal tea and licked her lips dreamily. Dayna sighed again. There was an awkward pause. Then Vila prompted, “Well go on. You can’t leave it there.” 

“What? Oh yes...We sat down to eat....just flat bread with some sort of meat and pottage. I thought the women were going to jump Ven at one point, they were so enamoured with him. I was close to jumping him myself! They kept grimacing at me and feeding him titbits of food. But then something really strange happened. Ven told me to give the Chief our gifts and the Chief rummaged through them. Whenever he found a jewel he liked, he presented it to one of his favourites. Then he discovered the pendant ... it was a twin of the one Jarvik was wearing...and he put it on. Immediately Jarvik looked, oh I don’t know, ordinary I suppose. The natives stared and then began talking together in their own language. It turned a bit nasty. The women seemed disappointed and the men were gesticulating angrily. Ven stood up. The Chief stood up too. He said in a loud voice, “ You have tricked me. You are not the Special Man. You will give me your woman, if you want to live.” I began to protest of course but Ven just shouted over me, “Let’s settle this like Chieftains. The winner gets her.” 

Well I tried to argue with him but he told me to be quiet; it was “a dispute touching on his honour,” he said, or some such rubbish... I was to “know my place and let the Men sort it out.” You can imagine how happy I was about that. Before I knew it, both he and the Chief had stripped off and the natives were forming a circle around us. One of them came for me and tied my hands. I thought he was going to take my bracelet but I managed to activate it with my chin before he could do it. Vila teleported me at once and I’ve never been so relieved.”

“So why didn’t Jarvik teleport with you?” Tarrant asked, suspicion colouring his voice.

“He must have removed his bracelet when he stripped, ” Dayna surmised.

“ Oh yes, he did,” Cally confirmed. “They were completely naked.” 

Everyone was silent as they absorbed this information and then Dayna explained: “It’s what I would have done. Standard practice when you nude wrestle . You don’t want to give your opponent anything to hang on to.”

More silence, and then Vila, who had obviously processed the imagined scene rather quicker than the others, sniggered

“Well not much any way, Dayna. I mean, if you’re starkers there’s always something to..you know...grab....”

“Shut up Vila,” Dayna admonished, while Cally just stared at him uncomprehendingly. 

“What do you mean, Vila? I don’t understand...” she questioned.

“Yes, never mind that,” Tarrant interrupted quickly, sparing Vila’s blushes. “ What do you plan to do about Jarvik, Avon? When are we going back to rescue him?”

“ Regrettably, Tarrant, rescue is out of the question,” said Avon with his patented insincere-sincerity. “We escaped those pursuit ships by the narrowest of margins. Do you really want to risk the safety of this crew by returning to an area which the Federation is patrolling in large numbers? But that aside, I have reason to think that our former guest does not wish to be rescued. Zen, what was it he said when I asked you to contact him?”

+Information+ intoned Zen. +The entity known as Ven Jarvik is apparently enjoying the only life befitting a true man.+

“And that would be...Zen?” Avon prodded.

+The sun on his back, the company of real men to fight with, and his choice of beautiful women.+

“ Real men?” Tarrant questioned, a trifle hurt.

“Lucky Devil,” Vila mused wistfully.

Dayna and Cally simultaneously pinched their lips together and exchanged indignant glances. 

After a pause, Cally remarked rather crossly, “Well I suppose that settles it.”

“ Hardly,” Avon reminded them. “Dayna and I were only able to find a couple of crystals. We will  
need to find another supply. And soon. I’ve put Orac to work on the problem but I suggest you all forget about Jarvik and see if you can come up with any solutions yourselves.”

“I might have an idea,” offered Tarrant.

“Good. Well get on with it.” And with that, Avon returned to his experiments with the Sopron.

A keen observer might have noted that the Sopron was now smaller than when Avon first acquired it, but the crew weren’t especially keen. Vila did ask Orac what would happen if a Sopron came face to face with another Sopron. “Would they cancel each other out? ” he questioned. But Avon caught him at it, removed Orac’s key before it could answer and then gave Vila such a glare that he dropped the subject. Shortly after this, he found that Tarrant had bartered his services for the crystals they needed and soon he was alone on Kezarn, finding he had much more to worry about than the fate of Jarvik.

The poor little Sopron succumbed to an infection (probably acquired at the time of its enforced excision) while they were all rescuing Vila. Avon regretted its death, but knew that losing it was a small price to pay for the removal of a potentially dangerous, and actually maddening, rival. 

\- - -

“What do you think he’s up to now?” Tarrant mused aloud one day when the crew were enjoying a rare moment of calm leisure.

“Who?” Vila asked, through a mouthful of nuts and soma, moving his pyramid across the game’s board into what he was sure was a winning position.

“Jarvik.”

“Jarvik who?”

“ You must remember him, Vila. The barbarian!” Dayna snorted derisively. 

“Hardly that, Dayna,” Avon corrected. “A special kind of man. Or so I believe you thought, Tarrant?” 

“ Barbarian. Special man!” Dayna didn’t bother to wait for Tarrant’s reply before making her feelings known. “He chose to leave us. Who cares what happened to him?”

“ Who indeed? That’s mate in three moves, Vila.”

“ No it’s not, Avon. Oh...yes it is... I really thought I’d got you this time.”

He looked so downcast, that Cally was moved to intervene.

“ Cheer up Vila. It takes a special kind of man to admit he’s beaten.”

“And one even more special to deduce his opponent’s weakness from the patterns of his behaviour!” Avon observed complacently.

Which was the last word any of them spoke on the subject.


End file.
